


Practice

by Paige242



Category: Superman & Lois (TV 2021)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-17 08:35:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29963739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paige242/pseuds/Paige242
Summary: Now that Jordan is on the team, Clark insists on an early morning practice.(Post 1x03, Father-Son bonding)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 40





	Practice

**Author's Note:**

> Loved episode 3, here is a little follow up.

“Come on, get up, it’s time to practice.” 

Clark watched as his teenage son rolled over in bed and opened one bleary eye. Jordan wasn’t really a morning person, but he’d agreed to this last night and Clark was determined to hold him to it, even though it was Saturday. 

Jordan groaned and muttered something about video games, but the father was undeterred. 

With an energetic stride, Clark walked over to the window and pulled open the dark curtains, letting the bright autumn sun flood into the room. 

This had the intended effect. His son was complaining about a tingling sensation now and the man did not hold back a smile. It was impossible for Clark to sleep when there was the faintest glimmer of sunshine and he knew exactly what Jordan was talking about— apparently, this was something his son shared to some degree. 

“Great, you’re awake now,” he noted as Jordan pushed himself up into a sitting position, the sleepy eyed look magically gone. “Meet me downstairs in five for a protein-packed breakfast and then we’ll hit the yard.” 

He didn’t wait for a response before happily walking off towards the staircase. 

Truth be told, he was looking forward to this. 

xxxx

By seven ten, Clark and Jordan had walked out to the field beside the barn and the boy was surveying the scene his father had set. 

Clark had borrowed a few practice dummies from the school, and had piled a few other assorted objects on the grass as well. He could tell that his son was perplexed and he silently prayed that his approach was going to work. 

He was excited to practice with his son, but he was still new to the coaching game and even he didn’t know the best way to train a half-Kryptonian with an unknown degree of power. 

It was all a guessing game at this point. Which was part of the reason why they both needed this. 

“Do you really need to wear the hat, dad?” His son asked, eyes directed at the Crows cap he’d proudly thrown on as they’d walked out the door. 

“What’s wrong with the hat?” Clark asked. Frankly, he thought he looked good and he’d always been one for team spirit. 

Jordan simply rolled his eyes as an amused smirk pulled at the corner of his lips. 

“Alright, let’s get started,” Clark pushed, eager to move on from his fashion choices. There were far more important matters at hand. “What I think we really need to focus on today is control,” he began, a note of seriousness in his voice. “For most people, the point of football practice is to test limits and push as hard as possible, but it’s kind of the opposite for you.” 

That was why he had suggested this special practice in the first place. Jordan had different considerations and Clark found himself filling with worry last week as he’d heard coach Gains barking at the team to “push harder” and “find your strength.” He knew that his son wasn’t taking those messages to heart, but it felt necessary to take another approach. 

In private. 

“Yeah,” Jordan agreed softly, blinking up at his father from beneath his long brown locks. He could see that the boy was approaching this with an appropriate degree of seriousness— coupled with awkward discomfort. “So basically, this is football 101 for aliens?” 

Clark felt a slight pang in his stomach at that blunt analysis. He’d never liked that word, and definitely hated hearing his son describe himself in that way. “You’re not—“ he stopped, not wanting to go down that route, “let’s focus, I want you to start with the practice dummy,” he said, gesturing to the large punching bag he’d set up in the field. “You’re playing defence, so the most important thing for you is making sure that you can tackle people without hurting anyone and without arousing any suspicion.” 

Jordan pursed his lips and squared his shoulders. 

“To start,” Clark suggested, why do you go at the dummy with full strength. We’ll see where you’re at and how far you need to reign it in.” 

For obvious reasons, Jordan had never been told to go at the dummy as hard as he could during the school practices and Clark could see the apprehension in his son’s face. 

The teen hesitated, clearly thinking over his response. “Okay...”he began slowly, giving the dummy a nervous glance, “but do you promise I can still be on the team no matter what?” 

Clark did his best to offer a reassuring smile. “I promise.” 

His son nodded before turning back towards his target and steadying himself for a run. Seconds later, he had taken off and Clark watched as Jordan made contact with the two-hundred and fifty pound sandbag. The thing would have stopped most people in their tracks, but Jordan managed to throw himself into it as if it weighed nothing and launch it clear across the field. It flew a hundred feet, at least. 

Apparently, the teen found this invigorating because he looked back towards him with a triumphant smile on his face. He wasn’t the least bit out of breath and he looked ready to get right back at it. 

Clark realized that he probably looked surprised and he did his best to keep up a calm facade. But, inside, his heart was pounding in his chest. This was the first time they’d really tested his strength and, frankly, he was a bit taken aback. Jor-El had made things sound so minimal but, if this was what 1/100th of his own power looked like, then he’d clearly underestimated himself over the years. 

Jordan was strong. 

“Impressed?” The boy asked, a heartwarming smile on his face. He got the sense that his son had tried something like this before, unbeknownst to the rest of them. 

Clark answered honestly. “Yes,” he said, glancing towards the sandbag that lay in the distance. “Did that hurt at all? Did you feel it?” 

The boy shrugged. “It didn’t hurt,” he said casually, “I felt it, I guess. In the way I’d feel someone touching my arm or shaking my hand. I can tell it’s there, but the force doesn’t seem to do much. That’s the best way I can describe it.” 

Clark knew exactly what he meant and he felt a surge of emotion as Jordan spoke. He’d never put it in those exact terms but that was what it was like for him too. It was both exhilarating and terrifying to know that his son could now relate to that.

He was so used to feeling alone- isolated by his own differences. Clark knew he was incredibly blessed and incredibly loved, but that secret gnawing feeling of separation never left him, no matter what. He’d struggled with it during various periods of his life. 

But, as he looked towards his boy— a child with his dark hair, and bright eyes— he felt those somber feelings fade. 

Perhaps Jordan would never have all of his power, but he was still like him, no matter what Jor-El said. 

And there was a sense of guilt that went with that too. He would always have to be careful, he would always feel different. He would never be human. And that was 100% Clark’s fault. 

“Dad? Are you okay?” 

Jordan’s voice broke him away from his train of thought and he looked back over, smiling the second he saw the boy’s face. 

He could see so much of himself in that gaze. 

“I’m fine,” he confirmed before zipping off across the field and bringing the dummy back to its original position. “Now, let’s try that again. This time, focus on just knocking it over.”

“Yeah, okay,” Jordan agreed with a shrug. “That’s basically what I’ve been doing at practice. I figure lightly knocking people down is way safer than shoving them.” 

To demonstrate, he went at the dummy again, easily knocking it over with a gentle push. 

Now that he had seen Jordan actually try, he could tell that he was only putting in minimal effort now. Clark nodded in in satisfaction. 

“Great,” he said enthusiastically, “now, try doing that again without crushing the egg.” 

“What?” Jordan looked confused as he watched his father open a box in his pile of supplied and place a single egg on the grass next to the dummy. 

“Tackle it, but control it so that it stops just before it crushes the egg.” 

The teen looked at him like he was crazy but, quickly giving in, he gave it a try. 

The punching bag leaned back as he made contact- slower than before, but not enough to save the field from a sticky yellow mess. 

Jordan looked annoyed but Clark laughed, “Again,” he said with enthusiasm, “a bit softer this time.” 

He tried, again and again, until finally he drew back to see that the small white object had survived contact unharmed. 

Clark gave his son a congratulatory pay on the back, “well done,” he noted happily. He was legitimately impressed with how well the boy seemed to be able to adjust his strength. If they could keep this up, maybe it really was going to be okay. 

“Now,” he said, ready to add another level to the exercise, “this time when you tackle it you need to act like you felt it.” 

Jordan snorted, raising a dark eyebrow, “Wait...are you seriously giving me acting lessons right now? The guy who stumbled around carrying a water cooler like one of the three stooges?” He laughed at the memory. 

Clark threw his hands up defensively, “yeah, I know,” he conceded. “Sometimes I overdo it but it’s important Jordan, trust me. This is one of the little things I was talking about the other week,” he said with more seriousness this time, “it doesn’t seem like much, but if the wrong people notice that you never even flinch on the football field then it might bring unwanted attention.” 

The boy let out a long breath. “So...am I supposed to say ouch every time I make contact? How am I supposed to know if it should hurt or not?” 

That was a question Clark had asked himself many times in the past and it had taken years of practice to master it. He hoped that Jordan would have a bit of an advantage over him, though. 

“Well, for starters,” he began, “before your powers kicked in you knew what it felt like to get hurt, right?” 

The teen nodded.“I’d never tried playing football, though,” he pointed out, “or any contact sport, for that matter. And now I’m never going to know how it should feel.” 

Clark felt a slight frown tugging at his face. The reality was, even with this level of power, there were a lot of things Jordan would never experience in a ‘normal’ way again. His life was always going to be different moving forward and he hoped his son would never resent him for that.

“And the next time we’re at regular practice,” he began again, trying to push the thought from his mind, “watch the other boys and study their reactions to things. That was the number one way I learned how to act...” 

He trailed off awkwardly but Jordan finished for him. 

“Human?” He said, letting out a small sigh. 

There was a heavy pause as the word hung in the air but Jordan, for better or worse, had never been one to shy away from the hard conversations. 

“So, in short,” he summarized bluntly, “watch the human kids and pretend I’m one of them.” 

Clark shifted uncomfortably, a strange knot churning in the pit of his stomach. He’d always known what having him as a father would mean for his children but, over the years, he had done his best to avoid thinking about it in those terms. It felt like he had passed on the terrible burden of knowing that you’d never really fit. 

“I didn’t want to put it that way,” he noted, “but yeah, basically, do that.” 

Thankfully, Jordan didn’t seem too put out by the request. “Okay, sure,” he said before turning back to the practice dummy, “how’s this?” 

He ran at the thing, effortlessly knocking it to the ground. There was a moment’s pause before he clutched his shoulder exaggeratedly “ouch! Ow, ow, ow!” he exclaimed, screwing up his face in mock agony, “that thing is even heavier than a jug of water!”

Despite it all, Clark laughed. He was glad his son could find the humour in it. 

“Yeah Jordan, super convincing,” he said with a healthy dose of sarcasm. “No one will suspect a thing.”

Jordan laughed.

“What can I say, dad?” He retorted with a grin, “I learned from the worst.” 

Clark rolled his eyes before pretending to look offended by the remark. 

“Just for that, I want to see three laps around the field,” he said before playfully shooting his son a punishing grin, “go!” 

The teen stuck out his tongue before complying to the demand and taking off with a swift jog. 

He watched as Jordan ran, all the while letting out joking exclamations of “ouch!” and “my legs are killing me!” as he passed by. 

It was impossible to keep the growing smile from his face.

A few months ago, Clark never could have pictured a scene like this. An early morning football practice with Jordan. Teaching his son how to control his powers. Joking and laughing together. 

There were bound to be challenges along the way but, frankly, Clark hoped that he would never wake up from this beautiful dream. 


End file.
